The Rise of Emrys
by Mrs. Bonner
Summary: When Merlin mysteriously sets out alone on a perilous journey, King Arthur is left with many questions. But questions lead to answers, and perhaps Arthur has begun to ask the right ones. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

"Good Morning, Sire." Merlin set the breakfast tray down and opened the windows, letting the King's room fill with light.

"Good morning..." King Arthur mumbled a sleepy greeting from under the pillow he had moved to shade his eyes.

Merlin laid out a clean shirt and suit of clothes on the foot of the bed, and then sat down in a chair at Arthur's table. The king was not yet moving out of bed.

"Arthur," Merlin said, "I have made a decision. You won't like it, but it is what it is, and I've made up my mind."

Arthur's face remained under the pillow. "What are you talking about, Merlin?"

"I'm leaving Camelot today. I regret that I won't be able to act as your manservant any longer. ...I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm going somewhere."

Arthur sat up. "Merlin, what in the world are you talking about?"

"I have to leave. There are things I need to take care of. Things that need my ...attention."

"Is it your mother? Is something wrong? What happened?" The king got out of bed. "Why haven't you mentioned this before?" He sounded irritated, but this was no surprise. Any awkward or uncomfortable conversation automatically triggered Arthur's ire.

Merlin did not answer any of the king's predictable questions. He simply smiled and waited until his friend had ceased boiling over with indignation. At last Arthur sat down in his chair and Merlin sat accross the table from him, meeting the king's concerned glare.

"I will tell you two things," said Merlin. "The first is a confession. Although not a very thorough one." He took a deep breath, and then smiled wryly. "There are a few things you do not know about me. Things I ought to have told you." Merlin laughed suddenly, in a way that made Arthur uneasy. "But I have not told you, and I do not intend to tell you now. I'm sorry Arthur. I hope you can forgive me."

"Merlin, what in heaven's name are you talking about?" Arthur's customary anger suddenly rang hollow. The young monarch had known far more than his fair share of disloyalty. Perhaps he was steeling himself.

"The second thing I will tell you is this:" Merlin's voice was low and firm. "I have never betrayed you. And I never will. I swear it, Arthur. You have to remember that. You have my solemn word."

"Your 'solemn word'? Don't talk that way Merlin - it sounds absolutely idiotic coming from you. You've spent yet another night in the pub, haven't you?" Merlin laughed at Arthur's brave (though lame) attempt to lighten the conversation with humor. "Please, Merlin. What are you talking about?"

"I'm leaving today. This morning. I'm _am_ going. Please don't try to stop me." Merlin stood, turned, and took three steps toward the door.

Arthur's next question was surprisingly calm and serious. "Will you be coming back?"

Merlin turned to face him. "I don't know," he said.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Then Arthur stood up. "Wait a moment," he said. The king opened his cupboard and pulled out a little leather pouch. "Take this. It might come in handy." He tossed it to Merlin, who caught it, making the coins smack loudly in his hands. "And take this too, because the one you have simply isn't decent..." He pulled his best gray woolen cloak out of the cupboard and handed it to Merlin.

Merlin was suddenly preoccupied with the necessity of holding back tears. So he did his best to laugh. "You never liked that color, did you?"

"Merlin," said Arthur, the customary supercilliousness returning to his voice. "This is completely confusing. I have no idea what you're up to." But then he dropped the facade and said sincerely, "There must be some way I can help you."

"Not this time." And something about Merlin's tone prevented further argument.

There was nothing more to say. They shook hands.

"Good luck," said Arthur, as Merlin opened the door and stepped through it.

"Stay out of trouble," commanded Merlin. And then he closed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

It was late at night, one long day's ride from Camelot. Merlin camped in the woods - far enough from the road for privacy, and near enough to make the resuming of his journey convenient when the sun rose. He made himself a small fire. He did this not because it was cold, but rather because Merlin had seen enough monsters in the dark to make him crave a little light for company. One might think of unpleasant things if one sat alone in the dark long enough. Things like magic-stealing doracha, for example. Yes, a little fire was a pleasant thing, provided it wasn't large enough to be seen from a distance and invite bandits.

Camping alone forces a person to be contemplative - a mindset Merlin was sometimes wont to carry too far. He wondered what he was heading into. He wondered if anyone could possibly be more woefully unprepared for a job than he was for this one. He wondered who Arthur had gotten to replace him. And then he laughed in spite of himself.

It had all begun less than a week earlier, when Gaius had brought Merlin a most peculiar message. It had arrived quietly, through a woman from a distant village. She, in turn, had received it from a Druid called Flam.

Scrawled neatly in the old tongue on a small, blue-gray piece of cloth, it read simply: "Emrys, the creatures that dwell by Harron's Sea have lost their shepherd. We await you."

Merlin had been baffled. But Gaius, surprisingly, had not. "Harron was an ancient seafarer who became the first king of Gedref."

Merlin had blinked at him. "Gedref?"

"I believe you are aware that Gedref has long hidden a sanctuary for creatures of pure magic. And that the sanctuary was guarded by a shepherd."

Merlin was startled. "Anhora... The old man?"

Gaius had nodded. "Ancient prophets foretold a day when 'the sacred beasts at Harron's Sea' would 'lose their shepherd'. The prophets promised that a new protector would be chosen for them - by Emrys."

For the next few days Merlin and Gaius had scoured almost every tome in the library for more details about this prophecy, but they had turned up little. The few references they had found all vaguely said the same things Gaius had already told him.

Should the messenger be trusted? Merlin had to admit to himself that, upon receiving the message, he sensed something inexplicable. He sensed that destiny expected him to leave Camelot.

And thus, Merlin had quit his job of over a decade, left most of his friends without saying goodbye, ridden hard from Camelot, and was now camped in a creepy wood near a deserted road.

The thing that unsettled him most was that outside of arriving at Gedref, he had no specific plans. Should he go to the north? The south? The seashore? The labyrinth? And he was doing this because someone supposedly would be waiting for him. Who? The Druids? And then, apparently, he was going to be _hiring a shepherd._

_How exactly was he to become this 'Emrys'? _

The wind whispered in the trees. Merlin could feel the memory of the doracha at the edge of his consciousness, but he refused to allow it into his thoughts. He carefully filled his mind with better things. Princess Mithian's people held Gedref now. He wondered if she had been told of the unicorns. And the thought of the unicorn he had once met drove away the last lingering shadows in his mind.

Pondering unicorns and dark-haired princesses, he drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

George felt like dancing, but he kept his wits about him as he hurried down the castle corridor. He was thrilled with his new assignment. Not that he would be thrilled with the departure of anyone on the Camelot Castle household staff - that certainly wouldn't be sporting, would it? But George was thrilled with the _opportunity_ that the new opening afforded him. And he meant to do a bang-up job.

George had learned a good deal since his first brief sojourn as the king's servant. He had gained valuable experience serving Lord Agravaine, and had done his best to provide proficient, reliable, consistent service. To be honest, George had always secretly been a little uncomfortable with Agravaine, though he could never quite identify the reason. This fact had led him to try to do his work with a little less show and a little more subtlety, thus drawing less unwanted attention to himself. Regardless of the cause of this change, George recognized that the effect had been good. If the quality of ones work was high enough, it would be appreciated. Drawing attention to snappy service was, perhaps, actually a detraction. He was grateful to have learned this from Lord Agravaine before the man's tragic disappearance - though the end of the assignment had undeniably been a relief.

He found Drea in the laundry room, folding clean linens. He took hold of the large sheet she was pulling down from the line and began helping her to fold it.

"And what has you so cheerful?" asked Drea, unable to resist his goofy but infectious smile.

"You are looking at the king's new valet!"

"George, that's wonderful! I mean, everyone's sad that Merlin left, but I know you will do a great job." She placed the folded sheet on the stack as George pulled down the next one on the line. Together they folded on.

"I know it will be awkward at first," said George, pragmatically. "I think Merlin was rather an unofficial friend to the king, and I would never presume to such a thing. But I know I can make things comfortable - the meals, the apartment, etc. I can be a good servant."

"There's nobody in Camelot better suited for the job." This was exactly why George loved talking to Drea. She had a knack for building people up. The girl had a generous heart. "So when do you start?"

"Today. This morning. Right now."

"Then what are you doing here talking to me? You'd better get up there!" The girl beamed at him incredulously.

George beamed back. "I just had to tell somebody!"

Drea laughed, turned him toward the stairs, and gave him a little push.

* * *

**_Author's note: Drea and George are each featured separately in another of my stories: "Mornings After". _ **


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm going after him, Sire."

Sir Gwaine had not taken Merlin's sudden disappearance lightly. In fact, it had made him downright angry.

"Are you asking us or telling us?" queried Arthur, rather testily.

Gwaine wasn't particularly cowed by Arthur's use of the 'royal we'. "Does it really matter, Sire? I'm sure you've thought of going after him yourself."

Arthur smiled and shook his head ruefully. "Yes I've thought about it. I keep on thinking about it. But with King Bayard's diplomatic envoys visiting, I simply can't leave. Merlin was probably counting on that. I got the feeling that he really didn't want company. He as much as said so."

"Funny - that never seems to stop _him _from following people."

Arthur laughed. "Go then. You have my leave. I'd feel better if you did. Keep him out of trouble, alright?"

Gwaine grinned and shot Arthur an amused look. "Well, I'll be off, then. Which way did he say he was going?"

"He _didn't._ Quite obviously by design."

"Gaius?"

"I'd bet money on it. If you can get him to talk."

"Oh, I'll get him to talk," said Gwaine, giving Arthur the briefest of nods and turning toward the door.

"Good luck with that," laughed Arthur as Gwaine disappeared from view.

* * *

Gaius was a truly exceptional liar.

Gwaine paid Gaius a visit in the court physician's quarters.

When Gwaine tried asking outright about Merlin's whereabouts, Gaius gave him a surprisingly plausible brush-off answer about a distant relative in a nearby village.

Gwaine tried grilling the old man a bit more forcefully, but Gaius' face suddenly grew concerned, and he felt the knight's forehead, took his pulse, and described a deadly fever that had been making the rounds.

When Gwaine began to grow genuinely angry, the old man seemed to grow remarkably, pitifully unable to remember the question.

The interview finally abruptly ended when Gaius apologized, sat wearily down at his table, rested his ancient head on his arms, and began to snore.

"Gaius, you're an old scoundrel," spat Gwaine indignantly. The knight had been bested, and he knew it. His respect for the old physician reached a new high.

As Gwaine turned to leave Gaius to his "sleep", he noticed several books open on the cluttered work-desk. "A History of Gedref", said one of the open pages. "The Mythology Surrounding Gedrefian Creatures", said another. And a third read "Kings, Battles and Stories of the Land of Gedref, From Harron I to Harron VII". He paused only the briefest of moments, allowing his eyes to scan the headings, and then Gwaine smiled silently.

Perhaps he hadn't been completely bested after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur groaned when he woke up. He'd been up late with Queen Guinevere, and lovely as that had been, morning was a thing that had to be reckoned with.

The groan actually came when he remembered that a new manservant would be on duty. Few things seemed more awkward to the king than being attended to by a near-stranger.

"Blast you, Merlin," he mumbled under his breath, and then sat up.

The shades had been drawn, which puzzled him. It must have been done very quietly, and before the sun had made its full ascent into the sky. He noticed that the table had already been set with an appealing-looking breakfast. And his clothes had already been chosen and arranged beside the armoire.

Arthur was curious. "George?"

George knocked politely on the anteroom door and then entered. "Good morning, Sire. I trust you slept well."

"Yes, thank you."

"Will you be having a bath this morning, my lord?

Arthur was surprised. Merlin had hated preparing baths, resulting in the king never getting one without a specific request. He nodded at George and then sat at the breakfast table to eat and wait. He could scarcely believe his eyes when the man proceeded to fill the tub with twelve buckets of water that he had prepared _beforehand_for this purpose. The task, which normally took Merlin 15 minutes, George now completed in less than three.

"Will you be needing assistance with the bath, or would you prefer a bit of privacy, Sire?"

"Privacy would be appreciated," Arthur said. "Thank you, George."

And that was it. George was gone. No awkward silences. No strange jokes about serving trays.

As he washed, Arthur considered his new valet. George obviously lived to serve. It was his life's ambition to be a magnificent manservant. So unlike Merlin, whose ambition seemed to be something else entirely.

Arthur had a moment of insight then. It was small, and his ham-fisted, over-muscled mind nearly missed it. But on that particular day the flash of a small thought sparked in his mind, caught hold, and began very slowly to grow.

What, exactly, was Merlin's ambition?

By the end of his bath Arthur had come to an important conclusion: he honestly didn't know what Merlin's ambitions were. And he never had.

It occurred to him that this lack of knowing had always been the source of some uneasiness on Arthur's part. In the beginning, he assumed the uneasiness was a result of having to spend large amounts of time with a person who was completely inept. Arthur loathed embarrassment, and from the first day they met, Merlin had always shown a real knack for causing it. But over time the two had grown into a more comfortable working arrangement. The uneasiness sometimes disappeared under the surface for periods of time. But it was always there lurking, and it would appear quite often, without explanation.

Arthur spent several years thinking that his uneasiness with Merlin was a result of two people working together who had nothing in common. It was utterly unnatural for a nobleman and a commoner to have to associate. They couldn't be friends. And since Merlin couldn't seem to comprehend his inferiority of birth - even though every other person from Camelot to the Roman Empire did - Arthur was always in the uncomfortable position of reminding him.

Sometimes, the king realized, he felt the uneasiness of guilt. In countless times of peril or trouble, Arthur had called upon his servant to do more than a servant's part. But afterwards, when life returned to normal, he often forgot Merlin almost altogether. And more so lately than ever before.

But what else was he to do? Merlin always scoffed and seemed wounded at the suggestion of a reward. As if he coveted some other reward, but, like a petulant girl, he refused to specify what he wanted. Arthur knew Merlin liked girls, thus precluding certain more awkward explanations. Knighthood was out of the question. (The very thought of a "Sir Merlin" made Arthur laugh and wince simultaneously.)

So what else could Merlin possibly want? Because it was something.

That was the best thinking Arthur could do for one morning. It was tiring. And unpleasant. He decided to avoid doing any more of it for the rest of the day.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been nearly a decade since the first time Merlin rode into Gedref, but he retraced his steps with surprising ease.

Not being sure of exactly where to go, he intended to go directly to the seashore. (That was the meeting place on his previous visit, when he and Arthur had been forced to match wits with old Anhora, while death was on the line.) But as he now crested the ridge that looked down upon the magnificent Labyrinth of Gedref, he realized that he was wrong. It would be impossible to reach that part of the shore without facing the labyrinth. Steep mountains on either side prevented any shortcuts, unless one was willing to ride days north or south, and then employ a ship for the rest of the journey. He had no choice: he would have to leave his horse and enter the labyrinth.

The Labyrinth of Gedref was in every way a wonder. A vast topiary garden, its endless hedgerows stood eight feet tall, planted in a dizzying maze. Stretching acre upon acre between the mountains and the distant sea, it was a beautiful, enticing and completely intimidating marvel.

The last time Merlin entered the maze he had been ambushed. He wondered what awaited him there today. If Anhora was gone, then perhaps he would find nothing at all. Alas, there was only one way to find out.

It was the fourth booby-trap that got him. Merlin was quite impressed with the first three - they'd been set with such clever, ruthless, practical genius. He'd been pondering their brilliance when the ground suddenly gave way beneath his feet. And, for quite a while, Merlin knew no more.

* * *

"It's about time you decided to wake up."

Merlin groaned. Everything was a blur. His head hurt. His neck hurt. His ankle hurt. He really couldn't see properly.

"Don't try to move. You got pretty banged up in there."

"Gwaine?"

"You and I need to have a little talk, my friend. Getting yourself into trouble and leaving town I can understand. But not saying goodbye? That's another matter."

Merlin, really trying not to move his aching body, suddenly felt intensely glad and doubly terrible at the same time.

"I'm not sure," Gwaine went on, "That you really understand how lucky a thing it is to have a friend or two in this world."

For the next several hours Merlin was in and out of consciousness, and each time he woke he felt a little better. Gwaine had them camped in the woods outside the labyrinth. He'd tethered Merlin's horse near his own. He'd built a small fire.

As the night grew late, Merlin found himself wide awake. He was able to sit up slightly, but was still glad at not having to move much for a while. His head and neck seemed only badly bruised, but his ankle was clearly broken.

Gwaine sat nearby, tending the fire.

"Gwaine, thanks," said Merlin. "I think I might owe you my life."

"You owe me nothing," said Gwaine. "I just wish you'd call on your friends when you're in a spot. You'd make it easier on me. I had a beast of a time trying to track you inside that maze."

Merlin felt guilty. Gwaine's words now, meant graciously, were all he could bear. Merlin looked down, unable to meet his friend's eyes.

In fact, the guilt of all of the lies and all of the pretending that had been pressing on him heavily since the moment he decided to leave Camelot - since he realized that he didn't have the guts to tell Arthur the truth - came crushing down on him. And then disgust with all of the hiding and pretending and lying that he'd been doing for ten years overwhelmed him. All the waiting. All the hoping that things would get better. All the cowardice. Guilt turned to anger. He was not angry at Uther, or Arthur, or Morgana, or Destiny. He was angry at himself. Because he had let it go on too long. Because he had the courage to face monsters and look death in the face, but not the courage to come clean about his secrets and look his friends in the face.

His ankle hurt like hell. And maybe his soul did too. He looked up, staring at Gwaine for a long moment.

Then he put his hands around his ankle. He said quite clearly, "_Mec friðian wiþ mé_." And his eyes flashed gold.


	7. Chapter 7

Gwaine stared at Merlin. "Did you just...?"

Merlin glared at the knight - utter defiance in his face.

It was too much. Gwaine exploded. Into laughter.

Gwaine pointed at Merlin, laughing. He staggered near, laughing. He repeatedly tried to get hold of himself, to speak, "All this time," he kept saying. "All this time," But it kept dissolving into snorts and guffaws.

Merlin had been ready for a fight, a scolding, a rebuke _- something. _But not this.

"All this time," Gwaine simply could not control himself. "Arthur," more peals of hysterics. "All this time..."

It really was too much. Merlin held back as long as he could. Then he dissolved into laughter, too.

Some time went by. As he was able, Gwaine began to ask questions. Merlin, gaining moments of self-control, supplied answers. This usually resulted in more laughter. It went on like this for quite a while. It wasn't until the wee small hours of the morning that they both passed out, exhausted.

Neither of them, in their lives before nor after, ever laughed harder or more constantly than they did during that one excruciatingly ridiculous night.

* * *

The Druid party arrived as Merlin and Gwaine were finishing an embarrassingly late breakfast. There were three of them, and they solemnly introduced themselves. The eldest was Fleu. The tallest was Der. And the stoutest was Flam. Merlin invited them to sit, which they accepted. He offered them food, but they politely declined.

"Emrys, our people will assist you in fulfilling your destiny."

At this Gwaine actually had to stifle a giggle. He and Merlin had spent at least 20 minutes on the subject of Merlin's "destiny" the night before.

Merlin smiled broadly at their offer. "My friends," he said, "I am much obliged to you. I do not yet know what will be asked of us, and I am grateful to have allies in this endeavor." In the Druid way, he bowed his head to each of them respectfully, including Gwaine. "Do the Druids have knowledge of what happened to Anhora?"

"It was a terrible thing," said Flam, who seemed to be the appointed spokesman. "The trouble began when the land of Gedref changed hands from Camelot to Nemeth. Soldiers from Nemeth were sent to scout and secure the land and its assets. They found the labyrinth, and learned from local villagers about the creatures at Herron's Sea. When the king of Nemeth heard of these things, he ordered the Labyrinth to be searched." Flam shook his head sorrowfully. "Anhora would have none of this. He fortified the entrances to the labyrinth with his magic, and instructed his apprentice, Evan, to build traps. He was successful for quite a while. Sadly, the day came when soldiers were able to breach the outer wall. They surprised Evan and threw a javelin at him. Anhora used his power to appear between the weapon and its target. He saved Evan's life, at the cost of his own."

Merlin was horrified.

Flam continued. "Anhora's magic died with him. Evan was captured and taken to Nemeth. The labyrinth was partially searched, but after a number of soldiers were lost to its many traps, and as nothing but trees had been found, the soldiers were recalled to Nemeth's seat."

"Where are the animals? The unicorns? Are they alright?"

"They are well for the moment," said Flam. "But when Nemeth's king renews his efforts, or when hunters come, the traps set by Evan will not be strong enough defense. The danger cannot be underestimated. The blood bounties paid on unicorns are high. Men will be enticed to hunt them."

Merlin thought about this. At length he said, "Perhaps the king of Nemeth can be persuaded to protect the creatures at Herron's sea. It would be best to reach a diplomatic solution. But I hesitate to leave the labyrinth unguarded, even for a little while."

"Our people have strong magic," said Der, unexpectedly. "We cannot protect the labyrinth indefinitely, but we will protect it until you can return from Nemeth."

Merlin considered. "This is good council," he said. "I am very grateful to your people. I will accept this offer. Together we will restore sanctuary for the creatures at Herron's sea."

The Druids stood. All bowed their heads to Merlin, and he returned the gesture. Then they solemnly departed.

When they were safely beyond earshot, Gwaine whispered to Merlin, "Druids are such fun guys."

That was all it took for the two of them to relapse into hysterics.


	8. Chapter 8

On the second morning, while the king was busy holding court, George took a moment to set things in order in the king's chambers. Suddenly, as he was freshening up the polish on the king's evening boots, he was nearly stung by a large scorpion. Instinct took over, and George flung the monster to the ground and stomped on it. After collecting himself, he inspected the boots and discovered no less than seven of the creatures. They must have been building a nest - what other explanation could there be? He quickly killed the nasty things, and then thoroughly cleaned every corner of the king's chambers - just to be sure there were no more.

That same afternoon, while preparing to serve lunch to the king, George discovered that the sliced ham looked a bit dry. He added a few drops of water to the cold meat, and then watched in amazement as the entire plate sizzled with a strange toxic chemical reaction. Whatever could make it do that?

That evening an axe fell off of the wall in the king's room just as the George walked near it. A stairway the king frequented showed signs of spilled grease, which had to be painstakingly cleaned. And finally, while he prepared the bed chamber for the king's arrival, a bedside candle violently exploded, setting fire to the pillow shams and coverlets.

It occurred to George that taking over Merlin's duties was going to be a bit harder than had been expected.


	9. Chapter 9

The road to Nemeth's seat seemed the easiest Merlin had ever traveled. The resting position of his face had become a smile.

"So what's our plan?" asked Gwaine.

"I've been thinking about that," said Merlin. "I want to try starting with the truth."

"That's a novel approach," said Gwaine. "And you're ready for all of the fallout that comes after?"

"I am," said Merlin seriously.

The two agreed that they could not imply King Arthur's consent in their dealings in Nemeth and Gedref. When they later arrived at the castle, Gwaine wore civilian riding clothes and left his Camelot-red cloak packed in the saddlebags. Merlin, ironically wearing King Arthur's own cloak, showed no outward hint of his recent employment. All traces of Camelot had been carefully removed from their appearance.

"What is your business?" asked the guard at the gate.

Merlin spoke up. "I seek an audience with the King."

"You'll have to present yourself to Sir Benedict. He's in that office at the end of the courtyard. He'll decide if your request is worthy of the king's time."

Merlin and Gwaine led their horses through a crowded yard full of farmers and merchants to the place indicated by the guard. They tied their horses by a water trough and eyed their consigned destination. The office was packed with men, women, children, and even some livestock. Still others cued up outside the door and into the courtyard. All seemed to be noisily waiting their turn to see the Sir Benedict.

Merlin and Gwaine sighed and took their places in the line.

After over two hours they got their turn. Sir Benedict was a stocky middle-aged man clad in chainmail. His bearing was professional, and his manner was no-nonsense. "Next, please!"

"I would like to speak with the king," said Merlin. "My name is Emrys."

Sir Benedict looked blankly at him. "And?"

Merlin felt a little sorry that his first 'big admission' of identity had so little effect on it's hearer. The enormous secret he had just revealed had been of life and death consequence to all of the Pendragons. But what exactly had he been expecting?

Gwaine actually had to prod Merlin so that he would stop goggling and continue.

"My name is Emrys," he repeated, "I'm a sorcerer from... other lands. I wish to speak with the king about the labyrinth of Gedref."

Sir Benedict did not look convinced nor impressed. "The king is a busy man. What is the nature of your business with him?"

"I'd like to help the king set things into order in Gedref. I am offering him my help."

"Right," said Sir Benedict. "Well, we appreciate your kind offer. The king already has several men on staff who are adept at sorcery. I'm afraid he is not seeking further help at this time. But we do thank you. If you'd like to leave your name and a place where you can be found, we'll keep your information on file in case of an open position. What was your name?"

Merlin was at a complete loss. "It's Emrys."

"From?"

"Um, …the forest of Gedref."

"Emrys, forest of Gedref," mumbled Sir Benedict, making a quick note in his book. "Thank you, and good day to you."

And with that, the companions found themselves again in the courtyard, blinking in the sunlight.

* * *

Evan possessed no magic. But a man can have other gifts. Cleverness. Ruthlessness. Foresight. Speed. Brute strength. Evan had more than his share of all of these. And he was not the type of man who wasted.

Evan had spent over a week in the dungeon. Getting out was never the problem. He'd sorted that out in the first hour of the first day. The thing that had taken so much time was the plan. Evan was going to return to the Labyrinth and the animals - that much was absolute certainty. But when he did, he would take with him an effective way to protect them. And planning for that had taken time.

As night fell, Evan made his move. The guards did not notice his escape. The household staff never noticed him weaving his way through the castle. And until morning came, Princess Mithian was the only person who noticed her kidnapping.


	10. Chapter 10

"Sire, we have concluded that there have been at least eight attempts on your life in the past two days," said Sir Leon.

"And George managed to prevent all of them?" Arthur couldn't help being impressed.

"Remarkably so, sire. It seems to be a combination of luck and the man's extreme penchant for thoroughness. The situation dismays him, though. He asked if this was a regular part of the duties of your valet." Leon's stoic face betrayed a little smile. "I think he is worried that preventing your assassination might be regularly expected of him."

Arthur laughed. Then he sighed. "Arrest King Bayard's diplomats. Bayard is obviously up to his old tricks."

"As you wish." Leon bowed respectfully and exited the council room.

The idea of employing George as his personal bodyguard made Arthur laugh again. It was almost as ridiculous as Merlin...

At that thought, a strange sensation began in the pit of Arthur's stomach. It was the feeling that he might have missed something.

Exactly how many times _had_Merlin saved his life?

* * *

Merlin, with Gwaine at his side, stood again before Sir Benedict. "I need to see the king."

"Ah, you again. What was the name?"

"Emrys."

"Yes, ...Emrys. I'm sure you can understand that the king will not be settling things with the citizenry today, under the distressing circumstances."

"I have come to offer my considerable help to the king."

"And he appreciates that, I assure you," said Sir Benedict. "But he simply cannot see you today. We apologize for the inconvenience."

"Sir Benedict, perhaps it would be best if I simply demonstrated what I am offering."

"I'm sure that would be lovely. I have an opening in the schedule in two weeks' time - you would be allowed 15 minutes, in which you could demonstrate any goods and services to a panel. The panel will in turn make recommendations to his highness' staff."

Sir Benedict reached for his appointment book but was unsuccessful at grasping it. Because it had suddenly levitated off of the desk.

* * *

"Princess, you're awake."

Princess Mithian sat up and stared at her captor, but she didn't speak. They were in a room made of stone - a castle tower perhaps?

The man standing in front of her showed no emotion, but his stature and his obvious intelligence made his presence, by very nature, intimidating. "In this place there is food, water, and every other necessity. You may ask me for anything you find lacking. You will venture out no further than the courtyard."

Mithian glared at him.

Reading her thoughts, he said matter-of-factly, "You are not in any personal danger. But you will not be allowed to leave - for the time being."

He crossed the room and exited by way of a staircase leading down.

Mithian, moving to the narrow archer's window, looked out and was amazed. She saw a magnificent garden of bright green shining in mid-morning sunlight. Beyond that, she saw acres of hedgerows in the design of an enormous maze. With a shock she realized her location. This little fortress was located somewhere deep within the Labyrinth of Gedref.


	11. Chapter 11

It was late at night. Mithian heard not a sound. She crept down the stairs and across the lower room of the tower. Embers glowed in the great hearth on the far wall, and by their dim light she could see the shape of her captor resting on the floor stones by the fireplace. She silently made her way to the door, lifted the latch, and slipped outside, pulling the door noiselessly closed behind her.

As soon as she was outside, she ran across the courtyard and into the maze as swiftly as she could go. The stars were bright, and she was grateful to have them to help keep her sense of direction as the hedgerows twisted and turned in dizzying succession.

Princess Mithian had seen the labyrinth on her father's map. She knew that west was the sea, and north and south were mountains. She tried to make progress toward the east.

The hedges twisted, turned, ended abruptly, circled back. She could not see over them. She could not see through them. _The gardener of this place_, she thought, _must be either a sadist or a madman._

After half an hour she found herself in a dead end. She turned back, but to her surprise the way was now blocked by a tall wooden door. It had surely not been there when she passed before. She tried to reach through the hedges, but the branches were solid and dense. She was unable to climb them. Nowhere in the greenery that surrounded her were there even the smallest of openings.

All of the fear, the anger, and the frustration of the last horrible day came crashing down on her heart in that moment. She shrieked her rage at the high hedges. She kicked the door. And then she sat on the ground and cried quietly for a good long while.

Princess Mithian's much-envied station in life certainly had more drawbacks than perks. Being bargained as a bride in a political marriage had been terrifying. Falling in love with her intended, only to be suddenly, publickly rejected by him, had been nearly unbearable. Afterwards, finding herself unable to let go of her unnecessary love for King Arthur, she had struggled hard to create a new future for herself. And now this was happening. It seemed that destiny was intent on digging deep, lonely holes in her heart.

At length, a knock came at the door behind her. Startled, the princess stood and turned to face it. Then a voice spoke down at her from above.

"Princess, you will never escape the maze without my help. You must return with me."

Mithian looked up to see her kidnapper peering down at her.

"Let me go!" she shouted up at him.

He hopped down into the vestibule of hedges to stand beside her. "I need you here," he said matter-of-factly. "You cannot leave."

"You can't keep me here!" Mithian was furious.

"I can, and I will." The calm determination in his eyes, just inches from her own, frightened her.

"Why have you brought me here?" she asked more quietly, afraid to hear the answer.

Evan turned to the door, slid his hand across it horizontally and then vertically, and then flipped it neatly away into an invisible crack in the hedge. "I'll show you," he said.

Mithian resisted. Everything in her rebelled against this man, and she had no intention of cooperating.

He took her by the hand to compel her to walk, but that proved unsuccessful. Whereupon, after giving her a rueful look, he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her.

After several minutes of this humiliation, the man set her on her feet again, clamped her hand firmly in his, and looked at her questioningly. She was being given another chance at walking instead of being carried like a sack of potatoes. With mixed emotions of frustration and relief, she capitulated. They walked.

"May I ask your name, sir?"

"Evan, my lady."

She could think of nothing else she wanted to say to him, and walked on in silence.

After 20 minutes of maneuvering through the labyrinth, Evan led Mithian into a sizeable clearing. Moonlight was everywhere, shining on several masterpieces of topiary sculpture situated at the perimeter. He raised his fingers to his lips and whistled a distinctive pattern.

She heard them before she saw them. She heard hoof beats trotting on grass. And then the creatures entered the clearing and everything else was forgotten. She found herself weeping silently at their very sight. Light shone on their gleaming milk-white coats as they nuzzled each other, tossed their manes, swished their tails and played. Families of them danced together: stallions, mares, colts. They were unicorns.

Mithian's virgin heart was overwhelmed. She loved them. She could not speak. She could only behold, as unstoppable tears continued to fall down her cheeks.

Evan's hand gripped hers more gently now. "They're in danger," he said. "By your father. He doesn't understand what is at stake in the labyrinth." He paused for a moment, a hint of ruthlessness returning to him. "I'll let no harm come to them."

A mare approached Mithian, placing her head under the girl's upraised hand. The princess lost herself embracing that soft, wonderful neck. For that moment all heartbreak seemed forgotten. She felt healing. She felt the purging of sorrows. She felt purity renew itself in her heart.

Much later, Evan led her back through the labyrinth toward the tower. His grip on her hand had resumed its earlier firmness, and her will had resumed it's private intention of escape.

"Why don't you simply explain to my father...?"

Evan's controlled voice did not completely mask his bitterness. "That would have been nice. But he had no reason to listen to Anhoran or me. Until now."

Mithian thought about this. Perhaps she could see his point to a small extent. The royal family of Nemeth was not approached easily, and this included herself. _But,_ she thought, _this excuses none of his actions, regardless of their purpose. _

"You have no right to take away my freedom."

He did not answer. He only stoically looked at her, as if no words of hers could ever move him. It made her angry. And sad.


	12. Chapter 12

Merlin got carried away. Lost in his glorious liberation, he took the "demonstration" a little far. When every item in Sir Benedict's office was swirling in a fast, furious tornado above the man's desk, all of the people, including Sir Benedict, thought it prudent to exit to the street.

"What now?" whispered Gwaine.

Merlin answered with a devilish grin and followed the people outside into the castle courtyard.

"People of Nemeth, please allow me to introduce myself!" He magically amplified his voice, loading the sound with extra bass. "I am Emrys. I'm a sorcerer, and I've come to ...meet your king." He caused a powerful attention-getting wind to blow through the courtyard. Then he waved his hand and opened all of the windows in the castle at once, so that the people inside could more easily take notice. "My power is great." Merlin paused for a moment, perhaps a bit uncertain what to do next. An idea obviously came to him. "I can command the skies!" He made it rain for a moment. Then his face grew mischievous. "I command the elements!" He made it rain apples. (He seemed a bit amused with himself and smiled at Gwaine, but the knight simply rolled his eyes at him.) He raised his arms and incanted a few words of magic, and suddenly the earth shook. "I have power over the elements. Earth, air, fire and water are mine to command. I am the mighty Emrys, whose coming has long been foretold."

The people were standing around the far edges of the courtyard now, keeping the safest distance they could while still keeping a view of the day's spectacular proceedings.

"King of Nemeth!" Merlin's amplified voice rumbled at the castle. "I, Emrys, have come to speak with you. I seek an audience! Will you not treat with the fabled Emrys? Destiny is at your door!"

Gwaine scowled at Merlin. "Alright, Merlin," he hissed. "Will you rein it in already? True greatness is knowing when to stop."

Merlin blushed. But he couldn't completely divest himself of a slightly wicked smile.

It was then that the great doors of the castle opened, a trumpet blew, and the king of Nemeth descended the stairs into the courtyard. He was tallish, middle aged, and slightly overweight. His clothing was well-tailored and chosen to good effect, highlighting his dark hair and eyes. Merlin could see where Mithian had gotten her hair and eye color - the family resemblance between father and daughter was obvious. The king wore a formal purple robe and an ornate golden crown.

Merlin was impressed by the formal attire. He knew from long experience that if a king took a few extra moments over his appearance before meeting you, it meant that you were considered important company.

The king strode slowly and with certain pageantry to a spot about 20 feet from where Merlin stood, and then stopped. Again, Merlin was pleased. The fact that the king had come out to meet him personally showed a respectable level of courage. The man spoke in a voice that carried throughout the entire courtyard. "I am the King of Nemeth. Please speak and tell me of your purpose here."

Merlin had to think quickly. He had originally been planning only to impress Sir Benedict into arranging a meeting. But then one thing had just led to another... He really hadn't planned this. Should he bow?

Merlin decided just then that he'd done enough bowing to kings. Still, he wished to show a certain respect for the man's position and authority over his own people. He decided to try using his best manners.

"Your highness, thank you for honoring me with your attention. I am Emrys, and I wish to speak with you about happenings in the land of Gedref. May I have an hour of your time?"

"We welcome you, Emrys. We would indeed be pleased to hear what you have to say. Please join me." The king made a grand gesture toward the castle.

Moments later, Merlin was seated across form the king at a grand table in a great hall. (Gwaine was welcomed to stand parallel to the king's knights, who had swiftly been assembling.) Chilled wine was being poured generously into cups for the king and his guest. A bowl of fresh fruit and a basket of warm bread rolls (which must have just been pulled from an oven) sat between them and provided an effective aroma of hospitality. Merlin had to fight off a foolish grin of pleasure at being treated in this way. But there was work to be done, and Merlin applied himself to it.

"Your highness, I understand that this is an inconvenient time for you. I have been told that your daughter has been taken from you, and I must assume that she is your primary concern at this time."

The king eyed him closely. "You assume correctly," he said cautiously. "Do you know anything of Princess Mithian's whereabouts?"

Merlin shook his head. "Her disappearance comes as a surprise to me and hastens my desire to see you. I am certainly willing to assist you in rescuing the lady."

"This offer is appreciated," the king said. "But as yet I know nothing of you. What brings you to Nemeth?"

"I come on behalf of the ancient creatures at Herron's Sea. Your highness, in recent months you have been made lord over the land of Gedref. This land holds an ancient secret and a priceless treasure. King Arthur, who ruled over the land until recently, has never been fully aware of what lies there. I have come to tell you the true extent of its secrets and entreat you to provide for its protection."

The king listened with interest. "I see."

"I understand that you have in your custody a man called Evan, which you took from the Labyrinth of Gedref. When you understand who that man is, I believe you will find it just to free him."

The king eyed Merlin suspiciously. "These words that you speak do little to gain my trust. This man called Evan, whom you speak of, is likely the kidnapper of my daughter."

Merlin sat up a little straighter.

"He broke out of my prison last night. I have little doubt that it was he who left this note on my daughter's pillow."

The king handed a piece of paper to Merlin, who read it aloud for Gwaine's sake. "The Princess will come to no harm, provided you allow none to enter the Labyrinth of Gedref. If you wish to see her, come alone."

The king continued, "Your intention to free this Evan does not please me."

Merlin glanced at Gwaine. Gwaine offered back the tiniest of shrugs.

"Your highness," said Merlin, "I will tell you what we know of Evan. I met him once briefly, long ago, when he was the servant of the mighty but ancient Anhora. Anhora was vested with magic and charged with protecting the creatures at Herron's Sea. Evan assisted him in this duty."

The king listened with quiet intensity.

Merlin continued. "Your men killed Anhora and captured Evan, leaving the creatures at Herron's Sea unprotected - for a time."

Merlin waited, seeking acknowledgement. The king gave him a nod.

"Surely Evan has taken Princess Mithian in an effort to gain leverage in negotiating with you. I believe his only aim is to protect the creatures he has long guarded."

The king thought this over. Finally, he spoke. "Even if I were to agree to meet with this man at the Labyrinth, I am prevented from doing so by an army of Druids that now repels my army with magic."

"Ah," said Merlin, who was unable to keep from smiling boyishly. "Would it comfort you to know that this Druid army ...answers to me?"


	13. Chapter 13

Leon entered the council chamber carrying a scroll. "Sire, we have urgent news from Nemeth."

Arthur motioned for Leon to approach the table where he and his counselors sat. Leon handed the scroll to the king.

"The Druids are rebelling in Gedref and Princess Mithian has been abducted," said Arthur. "Apparently the two events are related. Nemeth's king is requesting that Camelot send an army to support him at the Labyrinth of Gedref."

All were quiet as Arthur pondered the news. At length he said, "This is complicated."

Gaius, who sat at the king's right, agreed. "Indeed, sire. Nemeth has a right to expect your support in claiming the land that you have so recently ceded."

"I will not attack the Druids." This took almost everyone at the table by surprise. "They may have a justifiable reason for resisting the new regime. It is possible. I owe them the benefit of the doubt."

Certain of Arthur's counselors were truly flabbergasted - especially the ones which had long served under his father, Uther.

"Sire, you cannot refuse to aid to Nemeth without dire consequences," said Geoffrey.

"I will certainly aid Nemeth," said Arthur, "But not by attacking the Druids. There may be forces at play in Gedref that Nemeth's king does not understand. I scarcely understand them myself." He turned to Leon. "I need thirty knights ready to ride with me in the morning. I'd like you to hand pick them. No hotheads. This is going to be a diplomatic mission."

* * *

Merlin and Gwaine travelled with Nemeth's king and his men south along the coast, then east toward the forest, and then south again toward the Labyrinth.

Merlin was uneasy as they rode. "Gwaine, I can stop the Druids from fighting with Nemeth's soldiers, but what then?"

Gwaine sighed. "There's no easy answer. The king clearly wants to save his daughter, but he says he can't be seen to negotiate with a fugitive and a kidnapper. I can see his point perfectly. And how do we know this Evan even wants to negotiate?"

"I only have a hunch," said Merlin.

"There's a lot depending on your hunch," said Gwaine. "Evan's friend was killed quite recently. It may be blood he's after."

Merlin told Gwaine that he was listening with a look, but he honestly had no answer. The lives of the Unicorns were no longer the only ones at stake. Merlin knew his magic was powerful enough to impress, but would it be enough to keep so many opposing forces from killing each other?

Magic was one thing, Merlin realized. Wisdom was another.

* * *

Mithian did not have a great deal of sympathy for her captor. She could understand his desire to protect the Labyrinth, but his methods were inexcusable. _Besides, _she thought, _Sympathy would just give him that much more power over me. _She remained in the tower and it's courtyard, as Evan required. But she did not speak to him. She privately cataloged in her mind the objects in the tower that could be used as weapons. She paid attention to what Evan did. And then she got an idea.

The next evening when Evan departed the tower and went into the labyrinth, Mithian took a stout iron poker from the fireplace and silently followed him.


	14. Chapter 14

It was almost noon when Arthur and the knights arrived at the labyrinth. They found the Nemeth soldiers encamped a safe distance from the entrance. Weapons in hand, they watched the menacing Druids who were gathered in a silent phalanx at the front of the maze. The confrontation appeared to be at a stalemate, but tension was so thick that Arthur could almost taste it. He had his men take a non-threatening position well south of the two groups, and ordered them to stay put. He removed his sword belt and handed it to Sir Elyan for safekeeping. Then, alone, he walked slowly to the center of the no-man's-land between the two opposing forces.

"I am Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot," he shouted. "Let us parley together. Perhaps we can find a peaceful conclusion to this conflict."

There was some obviously uncomfortable deliberation on both sides. Arthur stood alone and waiting, but he managed to look every moment the mighty king that he was. At last a captain of the Nemeth force approached. "I am Sir Girard," he said, giving Arthur a courteous nod. Arthur smiled gravely and bestowed upon the man the most regal of nods in return. Then the two of them looked toward the Druids expectantly. After another few minutes, a Druid came forward. "I am Fleu," he said, making his bow in the Druid way. Arthur bestowed his magnificently regal nod upon this man, as well.

"Let us retire to my tent," said Arthur quite loudly, so that all present could hear. "We have much to discuss." Together the three of them turned and walked in stately manner to the camp of King Arthur.

King Arthur's tent was utterly fabulous. Made of fine Camelot-red canvas and furnished with a table, chairs, tall iron candelabras, and a sleeping cot, it was a wonder to find it fully erected where nothing but grass had been standing only several minutes before. It was also quite a miracle that 30 knights and a few pack horses had carried all of this finery with them so unobtrusively. The king invited his guests to sit. Bread and fruit were placed on the table as they took their places. A tall, lean, impeccably dressed servant poured wine into goblets before each of them. "Thank you, George," said King Arthur, pleased. "You may go."

Arthur took his time. He sipped his wine, commented on it's good flavor, and encouraged his guests to drink too - as if they were all good friends taking a casual meal together. He subtly relaxed, hoping Sir Girard and Fleu would be influenced into doing the same. He brought up topics that all could comment on comfortably: the game hunting season, fishing, camping. He told of an earlier visit he had taken to Gedref, and his lingering admiration for the beauties of the area. As a result of these tactics, though neither the knight nor the Druid became especially talkative, he was successful at easing some of their tension. Arthur had, after all, spent his life training for events such as these. Uther Pendragon had taught his son to use a sword, it was true - but he had known the value of negotiation, and had seen to it that Camelot's heir was well-versed in that vital art.

When the moment was right, Arthur came to the point. "My friends, it is clear to me that the labyrinth has become a point of great difficulty for both of you. Help me know it's importance. It is certainly not my place to pass judgment, but I do want to understand.

The knight spoke first. "Sir, I am acting under orders of the king of Nemeth to secure land holdings which rightfully belong to him. In fact, sir, they belong to him by the doing of your own hand."

Arthur nodded attentively.

"We have met with rebellion after rebellion at this strange labyrinth. First an old magician and his servant opposed us, and it took us several weeks to defeat them. Afterward we were further kept from entering the labyrinth because of its strange fortifications. Our king has sent us back again, and we are now properly prepared to puzzle out the defenses of the maze. But now we find ourselves prevented by these Druids and their magicking."

"I see," said Arthur. He sat quietly for a few moments. Then he looked questioningly at Fleu, offering an open opportunity to speak.

"It is true," said Fleu in his low, slow, grave voice. "We will not allow the army of Nemeth into the Labyrinth." Arthur and Sir Girard waited for him to elaborate, but he did not.

Arthur bridged the silence. "Why do your people stand between this place and its new king?"

"I am not at liberty to reveal the secrets of this place. The Druids do desire that this land be protected as it has for many ages, but we act now under orders of one far greater than ourselves. We serve the mighty Emrys, who has at long last come to Albion."

Arthur was surprised by this, and his curiosity was piqued. He wondered if he had ever heard that name before. Grateful that Sir Girard showed the fine courtesy to remain silent during his opponent's opportunity to speak, Arthur asked Fleu for more information. "Who is this Emrys?"

It was Fleu's turn to be surprised. "You do not know him?" Arthur shook his head. "Then surely I must tell you. The coming of Emrys has been foretold in all ages. He is the greatest sorcerer who will ever live. His name means 'immortal'. He will bring union between the Old Religion and the New. He will bring lasting sanctuary for creatures of magic. And he will guide the Once and Future King to unite the land of Albion."

Arthur felt a peculiar little shiver go up his spine at those words. _The_ _Once and Future King._Where had he heard that before? It took him a moment to remember, but it did come to him. Merlin had called him that. Why had _Merlin_ called him that?

"It seems to me," said Arthur at length, "That both of you have acted admirably. You have fulfilled your duties well, although they seem out of harmony at the moment. I am certain that we can come to an arrangement that will please your leaders...

George entered the tent. "Sire, a party from Nemeth approaches."

At these words, King Arthur, Sir Girard, and Fleu all stepped outside to watch the arrival of about 25 men on horseback.

Sir Girard said, "It is our king."

Fleu said, "It is Emrys."

And Arthur said, "It's Merlin and Gwaine!"


	15. Chapter 15

Princess Mithian had hunted, fished and camped all her life. Her tracking skills might not have been exceptional, but they were indeed existent. She was able to track Evan mostly east through the Labyrinth for the better part of an hour that evening before she lost him. Her dismay was short-lived. After finding no sign of him for several minutes, he leaped down right in front of her from above. The lady stifled a startled shriek.

"If you're going to follow me, princess, we might at least walk together." He seemed neither threatening nor angry. He looked rather amused.

It took Mithian a moment or two to collect herself, nonchalantly easing the iron poker she held behind her skirt. She was not amused.

"Oh, don't be like that," said Evan. He grabbed her arm firmly and took the poker away, then flung it hard over the hedges and far back into the maze. "There's nothing you can do to me. Come, we're almost to the place where I want your father to come meet me." He grabbed her hand firmly, as before, and she was obliged to walk.

"My father? He's coming here?"

"Those were the terms I left him."

"Terms for what?"

Evan didn't answer. Perhaps he felt he didn't need to. Mithian walked along with him quietly, showing no sign outwardly of the disgust she felt at being his prisoner. She knew what she needed to do. It frightened her. She walked as docilely as she could for several minutes, controlling her breathing, calming herself, visualizing her actions.

Then, like lightning, she struck. Hard. In his knee. It broke. She actually felt the bone make it's sickening snap. Evan screamed in pain and sprawled on the ground, and Mithian stepped several feet away in order to avoid his grasp. "You've misjudged me," she said.

Evan grasped his broken leg and writhed in agony. "Owwww..."

Mithian ran to where the hedges divided and looked east to see - no surprise - more hedges.

"Princess, please, wait..." groaned Evan. "You cannot maneuver the labyrinth alone. My traps... You'll come to harm..."

Mithian looked at him, trying to think as adrenaline pumped through her veins. It was growing dark. She could see nothing but hedgerows in every direction.

"I cannot trust you," she said.

"Please don't go - you'll only be hurt, and I won't be able to help you." He groaned again, and his injury reclaimed his full attention. "My knee... I think it's broken."

"Yes, it is broken," she said, rather coldly.

Mithian sat down where she was, a few yards from Evan, and leaned on the hedges, thinking. All was quiet, save for Evan's agonized gasping, for several minutes. Evan tried unsuccessfully to sit up, then rested as quietly as he could on the ground.

At length, Mithian spoke softly. "Evan, you have done me and my father a great wrong. I recognize your need to protect the unicorns, and I do not want any harm to come to them, but I will not be your prisoner. You should have found another way."

Evan was quiet for a long time.

Mithian appraised the prone man for a while. Then she spoke. "I am going to leave this labyrinth, with or without your help. I would like to have your help. Let us make a covenant. If you will guide me safely through the exit, I will use every bit of influence I have with my father to help you protect the unicorns." She drew two meters closer to him, and stood looking down at his pain-filled face. "You will have my word, and I will not break it."

With the weakest of melancholy smiles Evan said, "It would seem that I have little choice. I will help you exit the labyrinth. But lady..." He took hold of her skirt earnestly as he spoke. "Afterward, your father will have all power. The unicorns will have only you to protect them. Please..." Perhaps it was the waning light, but Mithian thought she saw his eyes brim with tears. "Please, you must not fail them."

Mithian stepped away, lest she show weakness with the tears that threatened to fill her own eyes. She moved behind a corner just long enough to remove a ruffled flounce from beneath her dress, then returned to Evan, tearing the cloth into strips. "Is there something nearby that we can use as a splint?"

They spent the rest of the night where they were. Mithian watched for signs of shock and did what she could for Evan's comfort. When it got rather cold she felt obliged to sit beside him for warmth. It was obvious to both of them that he would be significantly dependent on her if they were to successfully travel to the exit. And that knowledge did wonders for their working relationship.


	16. Chapter 16

Merlin panicked. It was all he could do to keep his seat on his horse as they rode down the ridge that had suddenly revealed the Camelot camp and the large red tent at it's center.

"Gwaine, what is Arthur doing here?"

"No idea," said Gwaine.

Merlin (who still wore Arthur's grey cloak) tried to think, but his ability for rational thought seemed temporarily non-existant. _No, no, no, no, no, no, no..._

Within minutes they were at the edge of the camp. The king of Nemeth was dismounting, shouting orders to his men. Arthur was standing outside the tent with the Druid Fleu and an unknown Nemeth soldier.

The king of Nemeth approached Arthur, who greeted him formally, with a voice loud enough to be heard by all. "Arthur Pendragon! You recieved my message. Thank you for coming. It means a great deal to Nemeth that you would come personally."

"I could do nothing less," said Arthur loudly, as he firmly locked arms with the other king. "Have you had word of your daughter?"

Nemeth's king shook his head gravely. "I hope to find her soon."

Merlin and Gwaine dismounted with the others of the Nemeth party at the outer edge of the Camelot encampment, and then began the short walk toward Arthur.

"I have good news," said Nemeth's king. "I have had the good fortune to meet Emrys, who leads these Druids." He gestured toward Merlin, who was now slowly approaching with Gwaine.

Arthur's eyebrows went skyward. His mouth opened as if to say something, but he stopped himself.

"Emrys, this man is King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot."

Merlin, lacking any better ideas, bowed to Arthur in the Druid way.

The King of Nemeth went on speaking. "Emrys is a very powerful sorcerer. Have you heard of him, Arthur?"

"Yes, I have," said Arthur quite evenly. "Only just recently."

Merlin knew Arthur better than anyone else on Earth, but at that moment he could not - for the life of him - read the young king's face.

Arthur gestured to the men at his side. "I'm sure your know Sir Girard. And this Druid is Fleu. Before your arrival we had been discussing the possibility of finding a peaceful resolution to this conflict."

"In your absence," said Sir Girard, with a bow to his king, "it seemed prudent to hear what was being offered."

Nemeth's king nodded at his knight. "You have acted correctly." Then he turned to Arthur. "We have ridden hard. We will rest and get settled. Tonight we will council with the Druids and resolve this conflict. And then we will find Mithian."

"Agreed," said Arthur.

"Come Emrys," said Nemeth's king. "I'm sure you will want to rest and speak with your own people. I will walk with you." And with that, he guided Merlin out of the Camelot camp. Sir Girard, Fleu, and the others followed.

* * *

Gwaine seemed about to follow Merlin and the others out of camp, but Arthur grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back.

"Gwaine," Arthur said quietly, "I think we ought to have a little chat." He looked around. Nobody seemed to notice that they were talking, but Arthur wasn't taking any chances. "In here," he said, and gestured toward the tent.

Inside, Arthur offered Gwaine a chair at the table, and took one himself. Then he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Pray tell me," the king said amiably enough, "Why does everyone here seem to think that Merlin is a Druid sorcerer?"

Arthur watched as Gwaine squirmed slightly. Then the knight smiled brightly and shrugged. "Sire," he said, "how long exactly have you known Merlin?"

"A long time," said Arthur testily. Suddenly he didn't at all like where this was going.

"I think you need to talk to Merlin."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"Don't you want to hear it from him?"

"I'd like nothing better!" said Arthur. "Unfortunately, I am prevented from doing so by the fact that it would be viewed as a serious breach of international diplomacy and quite possibly an act of war."

"You can't talk to him?"

Arthur stood up, exasperated. "Certainly not! If we even stood five feet from each other for more than a minute, everyone involved in this little land dispute would wonder what the king of Camelot and the "mighty Emrys" were plotting. My hands are absolutely tied. I'm in enough hot water for not attacking the Druids immediately upon our arrival."

"Glad you didn't," said Gwaine.

Arthur was silent. His head hurt. His heart had a curious ache in it. He sat down and crossed his arms again. He wanted to know, and he didn't want to know.

At length he said, "Will you just tell me?"


	17. Chapter 17

King Arthur's tent was appointed to be the scene of the council between the Druids and Nemeth. All superfluous furniture had to be removed in favor of a few extra chairs raided from the Nemeth army officers. George had his hands full making everything ready.

George was terribly confused by the fact that Merlin was acting the part of 'Emrys the Sorcerer' in this unexpected battlefield drama. Nobody had explained anything at all to him. George wondered again if being King Arthur's manservant meant doing many dangerous and distasteful things which had nothing whatever to do with the domestic arts. George was utterly brilliant at pressing shirts and freshening rooms, but he honestly wasn't sure he could convincingly impersonate a Druid. Perhaps he had misjudged his intended life's work.

It was by George's mighty skill alone that the setting was perfectly arranged by the time Arthur welcomed Nemeth's king and 'Emrys', along with their captains, Fleu and Sir Girard, into his tent.

Once the men were all seated and comfortable, George stood just outside the door flap listening, so that he could bring anything needed as quickly as possible.

King Arthur spoke first. "Welcome. Thank you for affording me the honor of facilitating this discussion. I will ask each party to lay before us the nature of his concerns, and then when both have spoken we will discuss them. We will begin by hearing from Emrys, leader of the Druids."

George could not resist the overwhelming urge to peek inside and watch the proceedings.

Merlin/Emrys stood. "Thank you. We are very grateful to have the ear of the king of Nemeth about a matter of great concern not just to the Druids, but to all of the people of Albion. The Labyrinth of Gedref was built ages ago to protect a great treasure, and that treasure still remains. But it is fragile and must be protected. Anhora, an ancient, powerful wizard protected this place for as long as anyone can remember. But Anhora has been killed, and without someone to take his place, what he protected is in grave danger of being forever lost. These Druids have acted on my orders to prevent anyone entering the labyrinth until a council such as this could be had. I have come to ensure that a new protector is appointed."

George eyed King Arthur, wondering what he knew about these strange happenings. Had Camelot planned this, or was it all a surprise? Arthur's face afforded no clue. The king simply watched his former servant. Whatever he was feeling did not show outwardly.

Merlin/Emrys went on. "In the last few decades, as Gedref has been held by Uther Pendragon and his son Arthur, the labyrinth was protected most effectively by their lack of interference. I would like to ask you, King of Nemeth, to do the same. Allow me to appoint a new protector, and then instruct your people to stay away from the labyrinth. If you do this, I can assure you that this place will no more trouble you." Concluding with that statement, Merlin/Emrys sat down.

Arthur motioned to the other monarch. "We will now hear from the king of Nemeth."

The King of Nemeth also stood. "Since the time that Gedref has passed into my hands, this little corner of the land has caused me nothing but trouble. Please understand my perspective. If my people see me unable to secure my own holdings, my ability to keep the peace is weakened. My authority has been challenged in the kidnapping of my daughter. If I am seen negotiating for her release, I am further weakened. You tell me of a mysterious treasure, but you do not specify it's nature. You expect me to be excluded from the use of my own land on your word alone. You ask much without offering any tangible benefit to Nemeth. What exactly is this untouchable treasure that I'm expected to protect?"

Merlin/Emrys said, "It is best if your people do not know what is in the labyrinth."

"Why?" asked the king.

"Because many people would be tempted to enter the labyrinth to seek the treasure. They would bring destruction."

"This does little to convince me. There is a treasure, but I can't access it. There is land and local passage to the ocean, but I cannot use them. This adds no value and presents me only with liabilities. I will tell you honestly, if Mithian were safely at my side I would feel inclined to torch the place and be done with it. What is hidden in this place?"

Merlin/Emrys shook his head. "I am not at liberty to tell you this."

The king of Nemeth sat down and threw his hands up in the air, clearly irritated with that response.

After a few moments of uneasy silence, King Arthur spoke up. "I believe I do know what the labyrinth holds. And I think the king of Nemeth has every right to know. I visited this place a decade ago. I interfered with what this labyrinth protects and my people endured a terrible curse as a result. I would strongly advise that no one disturb this place. Nemeth's king is already by rights Gedref's legal protector. He should know what is in this labyrinth."

Merlin and Arthur locked eyes.

The King of Nemeth demanded, "Arthur, I insist that you tell me what is in there."

Merlin/Emrys stood and spoke with chilling vehemence. "Once you know the secret you will be under obligation to protect this place. And if you do not meet that obligation you will be cursed sorely for your failure. Do not take this lightly, I warn you."

Nemeth's king seemed not to hear him. "I will know what is in my land. Arthur, tell me what you know."

Again, Arthur looked piercingly at his former servant. Merlin gave him the slightest - in fact almost imperceptible - nod.

"Magical creatures, called unicorns, abide here," said Arthur. "I do not know their origin, nor their significance. But I know by experience that harming them will bring unprecedented anguish and misery to your people. I concur that it would be wise to keep all from interfering here."

"Unicorns? Those imaginary beasts that young girls fancy? You must be joking." The king of Nemeth laughed.

Merlin/Emrys spoke in fervent seriousness. "Now that you know, you will be held responsible. A great weight has fallen upon you."

"I have seen a unicorn," said Arthur.

"Yes, yes, many have said so," said Nemeth's king with mild amusement. "Very well. I can see that you all take this very seriously. Because of this, I will take pains to see that the labyrinth goes undisturbed for the time being. You can leave it to me. It is now my responsibility. Will this satisfy?"

Merlin/Emrys and Fleu looked uneasy. But Arthur nodded. "It is his right to protect his own land."

"Very well then," said Nemeth's king. "Thank you for your time and your concern. I'm sure you can understand that I have many other kinds of pressing business to attend to. Mithian's safety is foremost on my mind and I must see that she is found."

Just then shouts were heard from the Nemeth encampment. All stood to exit the tent, and George had to leap to get out of the way.

It was the Princess Mithian herself! She looked rumpled and disheveled, but she walked as regally as a queen.

"Father!" she said as she drew near. "I am safe. Do not worry another moment!" and with that she dropped all pretense and fell into her father's arms.

* * *

Merlin went into the camp of the Druids at the mouth of the labyrinth. There he found Evan resting on a blanket by the fire. His face was ashen. His leg was swollen horribly, and he seemed to be in terrible pain. Druids had been attending to him. They drew back courteously as Emrys approached. Merlin bowed to them as they departed, and then sat down beside the stricken Evan.

"Are you in terrible pain?"

"I've known worse things," Evan said in a low voice.

"I don't suppose you remember me," said Merlin.

Evan smiled darkly and eyed him. "I do. I witnessed all when Arthur had his dealings with the unicorns. You were his servant. And you advised him well. He must have been fond of you if he was willing to die for you." Suddenly Evan's eyes filled with tears and he turned his face away.

"I'm so sorry about Anhora," said Merlin. "I know he was a great man."

"Yes, he was," said Evan, keeping his face turned away.

"Evan, I am the one the Druids call Emrys. I am the one who must appoint a new shepherd. The king of Nemeth demands his right to be the protector of this place. I'm afraid we have to give him the opportunity. I will not give him the ancient powers that Anhora held - that would be unwise in every possible way. But I must give him a chance to prove himself."

"You're making a mistake," said Evan, now meeting his eyes with severity.

"There's more. You will be taken to Nemeth for trial. You kidnapped Mithian. You must have realized that there would be consequences for the actions you took." Merlin was merely commenting, not condemning.

"Perhaps it was not the wisest choice I ever made. And it came to nothing. I have failed." Evan's dark look belied his anguish.

"I'm sorry," said Merlin.

Evan merely shook his head.

"There is one thing I can do for you," said Merlin. He motioned toward Evan's swollen, broken knee. "May I?"

Evan nodded.

Merlin put his hands around the knee and concentrated, then spoke. "_Gestepe hole - Þurhhæle_." He felt the magic's strong pulse and knew at once that the spell had worked perfectly.

Evan gave a sigh and relaxed in obvious relief from the pain. The color began immediately to return to his face. The man seemed suddenly overwhelmed with drowsiness. "I thank you for that," he said, and then lost consciousness in a healing sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**The Rise of Emrys - Ch 18 **

Arthur woke with a start. Someone was in his tent. He clutched the sword with which he'd been sleeping and coiled in preparation to attack. "Move and you're dead," he growled.

"Arthur, it's me!"

"Merlin?"

"Yes, it's me. Sorry for sneaking in, but I have to leave with the Druids in the morning, and I wanted to say goodbye."

They were both whispering loudly. Arthur smiled invisibly in the dark. This was so like Merlin.

"Merlin, how in the world did you become this Emrys?"

"I have no idea!" laughed Merlin. "The Druids seem to think I'm some sort of prophecy come true. They call me Emrys. They asked me to come help them sort this labyrinth thing out."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, you know... Druids have been sort of a sore spot in Camelot over the years. I didn't want to make trouble."

Arthur knew Merlin was dodging the question. The trouble was, Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to hear the whole truth. A huge part of him hoped the half-truths were the whole truth.

Arthur was sure Gwaine had not told him everything. He'd said Merlin was respected by the Druids. He said they thought he was some sort of important person. Gwaine and Merlin had been to Nemeth and used the Emrys thing to their advantage. Gwaine said Merlin wanted to protect the labyrinth. And Gwaine said he really thought Arthur should talk to Merlin personally.

"Fleu told me Emrys is supposed to be some sort of enchanter," Arthur said into the darkness.

"I know! Crazy, isn't it?"

More dodging. Arthur wished he could see his friend's face.

"So where are the Druids going to take you?"

"They want me to meet the rest of their people. They want to show me some things, tell me some things, I think."

Arthur was quiet. He wanted to ask for a better explanation, but he sensed that Merlin didn't want to go there. It gave him a dull stomach ache.

"I like them," said Merlin. "I want to go meet them, get to know them better."

"I suppose anyone would like being treated like a god," teased Arthur with only slight bitterness.

Merlin laughed. "Well you would know!"

Arthur laughed too.

He really wanted to ask for the rest of it, but he knew instinctively that it would kill him to hear. He didn't want to have to think the thoughts. He didn't want to recognize that Merlin never really trusted him. And that Merlin had tricked him. If nobody went there, then Arthur wouldn't have to get mad. He wouldn't have to deal with a million miserable feelings. He was an admitted coward for that kind of pain. Merlin had said before leaving Camelot, _"There are a few things you do not know about me. Things I ought to have told you." _Arthur's mind had been considerably uneasy ever since.

Merlin, true to form, read the silence. "I meant what I said before," he said quietly. "I won't betray you. And I haven't."

Arthur really didn't know what to say. He understood what Merlin was trying to put into words, but it didn't resolve everything. He was tired, and the sleepiness was making his eyes all watery.

The silence hung unresolved between them, like so many other things.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Take care of yourself."

"You too, Arthur."

He lingered only a moment longer. Then the tent flap rustled, and abruptly Arthur was alone.

* * *

The next morning the Camelot company rose early and broke camp. The Druids had already mysteriously disappeared, leaving no trace, almost as if they had never guarded the labyrinth at all. Arthur made his official goodbye to the king of Nemeth and his daughter, and then he and his knights gratefully rode for home. Gwaine rode with them.

It was a beautiful day. Gedref was as glorious as ever it had been, and it felt good to take in the sun-lit scenery. Arthur let it clear his mind. He was glad to be heading home. He wanted to bury himself in his routine and put a stop to all of this ponderous thinking.

It was nearly mid-day when a shout to stop arose from the rear of the party. Arthur turned in his saddle to see a lone rider galloping full speed to overtake them. He was utterly surprised to discover that it was Princess Mithian.

She came immediately to Arthur and did not even dismount before shouting, "Arthur, Evan escaped our custody en route to Nemeth and disappeared. My father is furious. I beg you to return and help me stop him. My father is on his way to burn down the labyrinth!"


	19. Chapter 19

The princess of Nemeth and the king of Camelot rode side by side for over two hours as they raced at full speed toward the Labyrinth of Gedref. The knights of Camelot followed at varying distances behind them.

Mithian was overwhelmed with gratitude for his help. When one was in the company of Arthur Pendragon, regardless of the circumstances, one felt little need to worry. He refused to allow it. He took responsibility. His every word and gesture emanated reassurance. It was one of the most amazing things about him. It was one of the thousands of things that compelled her to love him.

She didn't love him now in the same way she had during the short period of their engagement. Nor did she love him in the way she had after her return home, before his marriage to his beloved Guinevere, daughter of a blacksmith. Mithian's sense of honor could never have allowed her to entertain thoughts of a relationship with a married man - indeed, such ideas would truly have been quite repellent to her. She understood the importance of propriety, both in the physical and the intellectual. But there are so many kinds of love, and Mithian had found one that was proper and befitting. In the chambers of her heart, wherever you found Arthur Pendragon, you found gratitude, respect, admiration, forgiveness, and just enough melancholy to open her eyes to longings in people all around her. He would not to be hers forever, but he had been hers for a moment. She had been changed by him. That truth was hers to keep, and she would always be glad for it.

So Mithian did not worry as much as she might have, and instead used her energy to endure the long ride that had begun many hours before, after her father had sworn to bring down that troublesome labyrinth once and for all. No amount of pleading from her could have reached him. His pride had taken over, mixed with his reasonable fear of appearing weak. She knew she could not stop him. It was then that Arthur became their only hope.

She saw the smoke on the horizon first, and then they arrived. Nemeth soldiers were shooting burning arrows at will into the hedgerows. Several fires were obviously burning within arrow-shot of the entrance. Arthur leaped off of his horse and ran to where the king of Nemeth stood, arms crossed on his chest, watching the proceedings with apparent satisfaction.

Mithian watched from a distance as Arthur and her father talked. She could not hear what they were saying, but she was able to follow the conversation well enough. Arthur was appealing to her father's sense of honor, reminding him of the liability of this rash action, offering options, pointing out alternatives. And her father was refuting every argument. He was going to follow through with what was begun. He was not going to be moved. As the minutes ticked on, she began to despair.

Camelot's knights arrived one by one, but they had been instructed not to engage unless Arthur ordered it. Even at the cost of the labyrinth, Camelot must not turn this nightmare into a war.

The princess wondered if Evan were somewhere in that burning maze of hedgerows. She couldn't doubt it. Where else would he have gone but here? Evan, she knew, would protect his unicorns to his last breath. He was with them now, keeping them safe from the fire. It would be the lack of sanctuary - not the fire - that would soon destroy those unspeakably beautiful creatures and their troubled, complicated, lonely keeper. Mithian's compassionate heart genuinely ached for him, and she did the only thing she could on his behalf. She prayed.

It was too late now, Mithian knew. The fire was burning so fully that there could be no hope of putting it out. The smoke was growing thicker by the moment. She sat down, breathed through her skirts to hinder the smoke, and allowed herself to weep. If only tears could temper human destruction, what a better world this would be.

"YOU WILL STOP THIS NOW!" A voice, too loud by far to be human, thundered across the hillside and shook the ground.

Mithian looked up. Three Druids and a man Mithian recognized as Arthur's servant Merlin walked out of the woods and into the large clearing between the labyrinth and her father. Merlin stood in front of the Druids and pointed directly at the two kings who still stood side by side. She was amazed to realize that it was Merlin whose voice now seemed able to rend the very rocks.

"KING OF NEMETH, YOU HAVE BROKEN YOUR WORD."

"Archers," shouted Nemeth's king, "Attack them!"

What came next happened very quickly.

Arthur ran toward Merlin while shouting something, but Mithian could not hear what was said over the din. Arthur grabbed Merlin and seemed to look around for some sort of cover. Merlin, quick as lightning, pushed Arthur to the place beside the three Druids just as arrows began to be launched in their direction. Merlin, with one hand upraised, incanted something and his eyes momentarily glowed. Scores of arrows hissed through the air, but deflected away suddenly in front of Merlin - as if he, Arthur and the Druids stood behind an enormous invisible shield.

The Druids raised their arms toward the sky, and Mithian could hear them chanting in deep, low, musical voices. Thunder boomed violently in the sky.

The Nemeth soldiers drew swords and began to rush toward Merlin, but he raised his other arm and made a grand sweeping motion in their direction. As his eyes flashed, all of the soldiers fell hard to the ground, exactly as if they'd all been caught in one giant wave of the sea.

The soldiers of Camelot, seeing their king in mortal danger, rushed toward the fray, disarming Nemeth's men and preventing any renewed effort at attack.

The Druids chanted on. Thunder shook the earth again and suddenly rain began pouring down in violent, torrential sheets.

Mithian saw her father raise his sword and run in rage toward Merlin, exactly as his soldiers had done before him. Merlin's eyes flashed as he deftly treated the furious king of Nemeth to the same fate as his soldiers.

Mithian heard herself scream, and then found herself running toward her fallen father.


	20. Chapter 20

The interview between Emrys and the king of Nemeth, which took place an hour after the fire had been extinguished and the Druid rain had stopped, was not a pleasant one. It was just as well that the two of them were the only ones to witness it. When the king of Nemeth was no longer lying stunned on the ground, and when his concerned daughter had at last been convinced that he had not been seriously injured, Emrys and the king of Nemeth had a private discussion. They stood apart from the others on a nearby ridge top – illuminated by the moonlight to any who looked on – but afforded the privacy of distance.

Emrys laid down the law. The Labyrinth of Gedref was to be left alone. Any interference would bring Emrys himself to the king for reckoning. The king was warned again that the unicorns had their own enchantments, completely separate from Emrys' power, and that the curses for bringing them harm would be appalling. And Emrys demanded that Camelot be held blameless for its part in the recent unpleasantness. "For I am a friend of Camelot," said Emrys. "I should like to be a friend to Nemeth as well. But make no mistake: my allegiance to Camelot is carved in stone."

Nemeth's king bore his own anger well. His words were terse, but still appropriately courteous. He knew he had been bested, and he knew he would be bested again if he sought further conflict. He was wise enough to recognize the necessity of changing course. But it was well that the king had no magic of his own, for his eyes, at times, seemed to shoot lightning bolts.

After Merlin descended from the ridge, Gwaine sought him out. "Arthur sent me to fetch you," he said. "He and the rest of the knights are making camp for the night about a mile from here. Seemed like a good plan for us to get out of Nemeth's sight."

Merlin raised his eyebrows approvingly. "Not a bad idea," he said, glancing at Nemeth's king, who was just returning to his men. "I was thinking that disappearing ought to be my plan, too."

They had almost reached the end of the Nemeth camp when Mithian's voice stopped them. "I was hoping to speak with you, Merlin." They stopped and turned to see the princess approaching from a dimly lit cluster of tents.

"Or is it Emrys that I should call you?" She stopped and nodded politely to Gwaine, and then to Merlin as well. They bowed to her in return – it was a rather new move for Merlin. He liked it.

"Merlin is fine," he said. "But it might be better for Arthur if you called me Emrys when speaking to your father. I'm not sure what he'd think of me happening to have been Arthur's servant."

Mithian peered at him. "Merlin, you're a wonder. I actually thought so before tonight, but certainly for far different reasons. I surmise that you lived all of your time in Camelot in disguise?"

Merlin was taken aback. "I… I hadn't quite…" He really had to think about that.

"Judging by Arthur's actions tonight, he couldn't have known. He tried to save your life."

"You're right," said Merlin, feeling quite moved by her words. "He didn't know."

She stared at him for a long moment, reading his face. Then she smiled sweetly at Gwaine, seeing to it that he was no longer excluded from the conversation. "Such talented servants can't possibly be the norm in Camelot, can they, Sir…?"

"Sir Gwaine, my lady," he said. "You're quite right – Merlin is as rare as they come." He clearly couldn't resist giving her his most disarming grin and winking at her.

Gwaine's formidable talents won from the princess a tiny moonlit blush. She changed the subject.

"Merlin, I am concerned about Evan. I know in the last fortnight he has lost his only friend to violence, endured prison, suffered serious injury, and seen all that he loves very nearly destroyed. I do not think he is an evil person. I think he should not be alone. It troubles me. I can have no plan to interact with him. Under the circumstances, I think that would obviously be quite inappropriate. Is there anything you can do for him?"

Merlin nodded. "I have thought exactly as you. I have business with Evan and I will be seeing him soon. Do not worry. I will do all I can for him."

She smiled with relief. "Thank you, Merlin," she said, extending her hand formally and taking his. "I will say goodnight, then. Please thank Arthur for all he tried to do. Goodbye." She leaned in and gave him a tiny kiss on his cheek.

She turned to nod politely to Gwaine, and he smiled at her incorrigibly. She did NOT kiss him, but he won an amused laugh for his subtle invitation. "Goodnight, _Sir Gwaine_."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Merlin and Gwaine announced themselves outside Arthur's tent and were invited in. Arthur received them professionally – he was in "king mode" – a thing they were both accustomed to. Merlin, at Arthur's immediate request, recounted the results of his meeting with the king of Nemeth. He then relayed Princess Mithian's brief message of thanks.

When Merlin finished, Gwaine added, "I heard that Princess Mithian actually broke that fellow Evan's leg with one swift kick. Did you hear that? That's quite an interesting girl."

Arthur's glance at Gwaine looked a bit too weary to be called a glare.

Gwaine was hearty enough to know it wasn't personal. "I'd best be getting camp made for myself, then," he said. And as he left he shot Merlin a look that said, _If you don't talk to him right now, so help me, magic or no magic, I will personally beat your sorry arse. _

When Gwaine left the tent, he was surprised to find Arthur's new servant George lingering outside.

"Ah, sir Gwaine," said George. "I was wondering if I might have a word with you. It has come to my attention that I am lacking a few certain desirable skills befitting the personal servant of King Arthur. I'm told that you are quite unmatched at all sorts of fighting techniques. Might I persuade you, in the days ahead, to impart some of your valuable knowledge… to me?"

* * *

When Gwaine was gone from the tent and only Merlin remained, Arthur stood and shuffled through the papers on his desk, making a pretense of sorting them.

It was Merlin who broke the silence. "Are you angry with me?"

Arthur felt furious. He said, "Why should I be angry?"

Merlin's voice was grave. "I always wanted to tell you."

Arthur turned his back to him and started putting some of the papers into a small trunk. "Why didn't you, then?"

Merlin seemed to choose his words carefully. "There was always too much to lose."

"Well," said Arthur flatly, "Now I know." He kept his back to Merlin, supposing that only imagining tears in Merlin's eyes was preferable to actually seeing them. And at least this way, Merlin would never see the tears in his own.

"I'm a coward, Arthur," said Merlin quite vigorously. "I'm so sorry."

At this Arthur laughed a little. He couldn't help smiling slightly. He turned around.

"There are a number of choice things that I would like to call you at this moment, _Mer-lin_," Arthur said this in his most supercilious of condescending voices, in perfect immitation of the old days. "But 'coward' is not one of them."

Merlin stared hard at him.

And then they both exploded into laughter.

* * *

Merlin didn't think Kilgarrah would mind providing him a ride over the booby-trapped labyrinth if it meant aiding ancient creatures of magnificent magic. And he was right. Merlin rode to the tower at the center of the labyrinth in style - on dragonback. Then, as soon as Merlin was on the ground, the dragon leaped into the air, eager to visit with his unicorn kin.

Merlin found Evan easily enough by opening the door. The man sat by the hearth, stirring the fire with an iron poker. "Welcome, Emrys," he said.

They talked for a long while. Merlin informed him of the developments between himself and Nemeth's king. He described the charm the Druids had placed on the singed shrubbery at the front of the maze and explained how the plants would heal extremely quickly as a result. He asked how the unicorns fared and heard Evan's account of what transpired within the labyrinth while it was under attack.

When Evan asked how Princess Mithian fared, Merlin assured him that she was quite well. "I'm ashamed of what I did," Evan confessed. "I can't undo it. I wish I could. And yet," Evan eyed Merlin sheepishly, "Had I not been such a fool, I might never have known her. And she was indeed a lady worth knowing."

Merlin postponed his visit with the Druids. He stayed with Evan for several weeks. He learned the labyrinth's wonders and made a good appraisal of the man who knew them so well. He was pleased with what he found in both. At last he determined that Evan was indeed destined to be Shepherd of the Labyrinth of Gedref. When he told this to Evan, the man accepted with great humility.

Evan produced Anhora's staff. On a mild, moonlit night, they walked to the clearing where Mithian had met the unicorns. The magical creatures danced as Merlin took hold of one end of the staff and Evan took hold of the other. The eldest sire of the unicorn families walked to Merlin and set his head under his hand. Through the earth, through the unicorn, through Merlin, through the staff, through Evan, and back through the ground flowed a circuit of ancient, sweet, pure, wise magic. They all stood, covered with a glorious luminous aura, for several minutes. And then it was done. The creatures at Harron's Sea had a new shepherd.

Merlin stayed yet another two weeks after the change had been made, and then at last, one gloriously mild morning, Evan walked with him to the mouth of the labyrinth.

"I'll be back soon," called Merlin as he began to put distance between them. "And then we must find you an apprentice – or better yet, a wife!"

* * *

"He's had magic all along, Guinevere. Since the day we met. He kept it from me all of these years. "

Gwen listened, sitting beside him near the hearth in her chambers, and her eyes encouraged him to tell her more.

"I remember the first time Merlin and I were at the labyrinth, so many years ago. We were in a real bind and we thought one of us was going to have to die. He actually tried to convince me that it should be him. He was honestly planning to die for me. That wasn't the only time, either. If I'm going to be fair, I have to admit that 'dying for me' trumps any slighted feelings I may have over him keeping secrets. Ugh! Guinevere, I acted like such a girl! But I still wish he'd told me."

The queen continued to listen.

"You should have seen him out there. He was absolutely unstoppable. I saw him knock at least 40 soldiers onto their backsides in a scant second." Arthur chuckled. "He could have been anything, Guinevere. Whatever made him spend the last ten years cleaning my boots and playing the idiot?"

She smiled.

"Well, he _was _an idiot," said Arthur. "But he didn't have to do it. All this time he just walked along behind me and let me order him about. That was always fine with me, because what other prospects did he have? Well, it turns out he had plenty of them."

Gwen thought about that.

"It's not like he was the best of servants, either. Sometimes he was absolutely terrible. I mean, he was always talking back. And leaving my room in a shambles half of the time, like he really didn't care about his job. He wasn't very servant-like. Not like George, at least." He thought for a moment and then smiled at her. "But then, neither were you."

She looked down a little shyly at the linen she was embroidering, and then smiled at him again.

"He was really, honestly, sort of a mediocre servant. But then, he made up for it by being sort of a real mate sometimes. It's like he always knew we were on the same level, and I was the one who was just too thick to get it." He sighed. "I'm pretty sure he's even saved my life a time or two, Guinevere. Can you believe that?"

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"I used to throw things at him," he said in the low voice of the confessor.

"All this time he let me treat him like a dog anytime the mood struck. Why did he let me do that?" He shook his head at the puzzlement. "Why did he walk behind me all of that time?"

Guinevere couldn't explain it.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "You're wondering why I,_ myself, _think he would do that."

He thought for a long while.

"I think…" Arthur spoke very quietly. "I think he did it mostly for me. He could always see the things I couldn't. He kept saying…" Arthur blinked several times. "He kept saying I'd be a great king."

It was growing late. She leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm such an ass, and all of you know that," whispered Arthur. "I can't believe either of you thought I was worth the trouble." And still Arthur's relentless mind begged for clarity. "Why do you think he did he did it, Guinevere?"

She sighed, and they were both quiet for a little while.

At length a proper answer to Arthur's many questions finally came to him. It was the first answer he could actually accept, and thinking about it now gave him a sense of gladdening peace.

"I know why he did all of it," he said at last.

Gwen waited, peering up at him.

Saying the words made Arthur smile. "Because he's Merlin."

THE END


	21. Author's Note

Author's Note: July 21, 2012

Hello My Dear Readers!

Well, there we are – the story is done. I just wanted to say thanks for all of the encouragement and thoughts that you have sent my way. You have made writing this story incredibly fun. By begging me to "update soon" you lit a fire under me and made me want to deliver!

I tried hard to make myself write every day, whether I felt like it or not. The results were fantastic. I learned such a lot by writing this one! I think your comments were very helpful in showing me fresh perspectives. The comments may have influenced the story on occasion…

Some of you made unsigned comments, and I wasn't able to respond to you personally. I think I am writing this note especially for you, because I had no other way to thank you!

To all of you (signed or unsigned) who commented, YOU ARE AWESOME!

If you liked this story, you might enjoy reading one or another of my other Merlin stories. You can access them via my profile. May I suggest my favorites:

DESTINY AND CHICKEN – This short story tells what happened to that naughty Lady Vivian after she left Camelot. (She was still under that awful magic spell that made her love Arthur.) The story tells how the spell, which she wasn't even aware of, made her do unexpected things that maybe turned out to be rather good for her - and then tells how it finally got broken. If you decide to read it, I'd love to know what you think!

THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GWAINE – This one was very special, because in the Arthurian legend there is an amazing old ballad by the same name. That old story, honed by storytellers and bards for centuries, is one of the most perfect stories in existence. I retold the tale very faithfully, yet within the Merlin universe. It's quite a glorious romance, even if I can't take any credit for it's perfect plot. I hope you will love it.

HOW TO HANDLE A WOMAN – This story was inspired by something Arthur says about Merlin in the stage musical "Camelot". In the musical, Arthur was having queen trouble and remembered an experience he'd had with Merlin long ago. My story is a telling of that long-ago experience, where Arthur first learned the most effective way to respond to a perplexing woman. Set right after Series 2 Episode 10 "Sweet Dreams", it is a tale of Arthur trying to play the matchmaker – certainly a case of the blind leading the blind!

Thank you so much. Your encouragement has been so very excellent. See you soon!

-Mrs. Bonner


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